Four Letters
by LickleSoxy
Summary: He's laughing at her. - Written for a livejournal prompt: learning to say love. Eleven/River.


**Four Letters**

He isn't as tall as she remembers. With big, brown hair, light eyes and an excited smile, the Doctor stands with his back leaning against the wooden door that blocks off the grand interior of the TARDIS that she knows is there. Unable to keep herself from frowning, River licks her lips and turns her attention to the item he has clutched in his hand. Small, with pages that she doubts will be filled with any writing right now, the blue book is brand new and very clean; the patterns adorning its cover remind her of the blue box she has become familiar with through the many stories told by strangers and friends.

"It's a present," he says, extending his arm out and offering the book to her.

"It's not my birthday."

He gives a tiny shrug, lets his smile rise into a grin. Gaze lifting back up to his face, River can't help but feel a little confused as to why he would be giving her anything. Is this supposed to be important? And why now, when she barely even knows who he is?

Pursing her lips, River takes a step forwards and reaches out for the book. Taking it in her hand, feeling the coolness of its smooth material on her flesh, she eyes the book with what she assumes is a bit too much scrutiny, as though it will tell her all the secrets about it and the man with whom it belonged to mere seconds ago. It doesn't reveal any information, obviously. It is just a book, a silly object that will probably be forgotten about as soon as he leaves in his precious ship.

"What am I supposed to do with it, exactly?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and locking her eyes with his.

The Doctor seems to take delight in the question, though River isn't quite sure why.

"Write in it."

River stares. "Write what?"

"Spoilers, River," he answers, tone serious and playful at the same time. "Write spoilers."

-o-

Dancing around the TARDIS controls with vigour and shouts of joy, he twirls at random times as he explains the many intricacies of the console to her. It's her first lesson on how to fly, and he is speaking much too quickly for her to keep up, but River finds she is rather enjoying the show.

Her blue book has two stories written in it now, and she is happy to admit that the third entry is a magnificent one waiting to be put into writing. For now, though, she is content with watching him, with paying attention to the bow tie she has found she is growing fond of, with focusing on the way his body exerts energy and enthusiasm when he moves fluidly but without determination or a target in mind. Comfortable in her seated position on the floor, she lets her gaze roam over the contours of his full form, while her mind shuts off his words. They aren't important right now, in the slightest way.

"River Song, are you even listening to me?"

She quietly lifts her gaze until she is looking into his narrowed eyes. He is glaring slightly, and his movements have stilled. Standing on the other side of the console, he appears to be annoyed with her. She really doesn't care about that, though.

"No, sweetie, I'm not," she says, daring to use a term of endearment to see what his reaction will be. Rather disappointingly, there is no reaction. Well, not from the endearment, at least. His response to her answer, on the other hand, is brilliantly amusing.

Shoulders sagging and features going blank for a moment, he stares at her open mouthed as though he wants to say something but can't. This lasts for about five seconds, before an outcome that River didn't anticipate occurs. Lowering his head, she catches a glimpse of the sad frown that appears on his face, before her view gets obscured as he suddenly spins on the spot and straightens his posture. Startled by this, but not sure why the atmosphere around them seems to have abruptly changed, River opens her mouth to ask what is wrong. She doesn't get a chance, because he speaks first.

"Where do you want to go next, River?"

His voice is dejected, almost strained. It makes her feel guilty, for some reason. She has done something to upset him, yet she has a feeling that she won't get answers even if she asks him what she has done. It's a terrible feeling, one she hopes she never has to experience again.

-o-

He's laughing at her. In fact, he's practically _guffawing_.

Gritting her teeth together and slamming the text book on top of the table, not caring about the loud slam it creates as leather hits solid wood, River huffs out a reprimand. This only adds to the Doctor's utter glee at the situation, and River feels the desire to slap him flash through her thoughts. It's a nice idea, one that will shut him up instantly, but she won't do it. There are other ways she can get him to quieten down, methods that are much more pleasurable in the long run.

Even thoughts of holding his body, of stripping him down and making him squirm with touch alone does not ease any of River's frustration. This is stupid, positively pointless. She doesn't need to learn his language, will never need to speak it. These lessons are pathetic.

And he is still laughing.

"It's not that funny!" she shouts, finally letting him know that she is indeed mad at him. This is all his fault. Scowling as he takes his sweet time to calm himself down, River folds her arms across her chest and leans back in the uncomfortable chair that he forced her into just over an hour ago.

"Sorry, River." He smirks, gesturing towards her as though it will help to explain his reaction. "That was possibly the worst pronunciation of that word I've ever heard."

"Well," River starts, allowing her scowl to contort into a sneer, "if I'm so terrible, why are you even trying to teach me this? It's not as though I don't already know how to read it."

The Doctor nods. "Yes, you can read it. Very well, actually. But you should be able to speak it, too."

River frowns. "Why?"

His smile falters. Bewilderment quickly replacing any irritation she was previously feeling, River can't understand what is happening as she watches his features twist into an almost self-conscious expression. He looks awkward all of a sudden, like he doesn't really know how to express himself.

"We can stop if you want." The words are hesitant, and she can hear the underlying sorrow behind his attempt at a nonchalant tone.

At once she understands. It all makes sense, fits perfectly together. From his first proper meeting with her when she was an adult, from the book and the flying lessons and everything else up to this point. It's obvious; she doesn't know how she couldn't have seen it.

He's giving her everything about him. Everything he can, everything he is capable of giving, everything that he cares about. How could she have not noticed?

With a strong warmth pouring into her, River mentally shouts at herself for being such an idiot. It has taken her too long to have this revelation. She should have had it immediately, or at least as soon as they had begun getting physically intimate. Even before then, it was all spelt out for her in his every action, his every word. Him being incapable of saying it in words shouldn't have made her not realise the truth.

"Oh, sweetie." Her words are quiet, full of an affection she is sure she wouldn't be able to hide even if she wanted to. When he looks up at her, his confusion is evident. Now he is the one who doesn't understand.

River moves her hand forward and interlocks it with his. The pure joy she gets when he instantly tightens his fingers around hers is magnificent. Locking her eyes with his, she lets a smile rise onto her lips.

"I love you, too."

His small smile is the only reply she needs.


End file.
